Timbers & Winds
by hanaphonic
Summary: "You helped me, so I suppose it is only fair if I helped you in return." "You would be a great asset to the Assassins." "Let's not get too crazy. I do not work well with others, remember?" Because let's face it, when you've been on your own for so long, you forget how to play nice with other kids. Or in this case - grown men. Full summary inside. Eventual Connor/Oc
1. First Confluence

**A/N: Hey all of you! Glad you decided to stop by and read this story o' mine! **

**I should say right off the bat, I don't intend on making the chapters too long, roughly 7-10 pages, give or take, so medium length. Plus I've wanted to try out this kind of story/plot for a while now. But this'll be fun! Because of realistic interactions and plot. We don't see enough of those around here. And another thing, don't expect romance right off the bat. Love takes time and effort and awkwardness. So please keep that in mind! Thank you and enjoy!**

_**Full summary**_**:**

_"**You helped me, so I suppose it is only fair if I helped you in return." **_

_"**You would be a great asset to the Assassins." **_

_"**Let's not get too crazy. I do not work well with others, remember?" **_

_**Connor sighed, crossing his arms. Colette rolled her eyes. "Oh! Do not take it so personally, you and I sometimes barely get along enough as it is."**_

_**Sighing again, Connor unfolded his arms and looked at Colette. "I am sure we can reach some kind of agreement?" Colette shrugged her shoulders and dipped her head side-to-side.**_

_"**Perhaps, depends on who you want me to kill."**_

* * *

**Winter, the Northwest Territory (Lake Superior) – 1764**

_Bezhig, niizh, niswi _(one, two, three)… She counted in her head as she took careful steps in the snow, careful not to make too much noise less she would scare the creature away. She counted again in her head, taking slow breaths and watched as her breath fogged in front of her.

_Bezhig, niizh, niswi_…

She was closer now, hiding in the bush that blended well with the elk hide she wrapped around herself. Taking a quick breath, she drew her bow, aiming the arrow right in the creature's eyes. The hare stood on its hind legs and started sniffing the air as if it were sensing danger. Before it had the chance to runaway, she let her arrow fly loose and it its target, clean – right through the eyes.

She smiled wide, glad of the warm meal she was about to have back in her lean-to. She took out her knife and kneeled beside the hare, saying a small prayer of thanks to the Creator for His gift.

"_Migwetch _(thank you)," she finished in a low voice, her breath fogging in front of her. The hare was rather plump and would feed her for a day or two if she were smart about the portions she used. But when she thought of the wonderful smell and the greasy taste, her stomach rumbled loudly and she contemplated about eating all of it in one meal. It had been nearly two days since her last meal and she was so hungry…

Sighing, she cleaned her knife and stored the meat in the pouch tied to her waist. Brushing the snow off her knees and legs, she ran a little towards her lean-to in an effort to warm her legs up since they felt slightly numb from being in the snow. Her shelter was small, but since it was just she, it was the prefect size. She didn't want to draw any unwanted company, especially during this time of winter.

After making the fire and skewering the meat, she took big, hungry bites of the hare. She sighed with joy at the taste and licked the grease of her fingers and hands. It all seemed too soon when the meat was finished and so she sat there, huddled in her blankets and furs as she sat by the fire trying to keep warm.

With her belly full and the warmth of the fire, it made her feel sleepy and she felt her eyes droop. Her head slowly began to lean forward and sleep began to consume her. It wasn't until the sun had just barely set when she jolted awake. She looked around, seeing if anyone was nearby and she squinted her eyes to see well in the dark. Behind her lean-to she heard a soft rustling nearby. Covering the smoking embers from the fire and rolling her blankets and furs in one mass, she tied it with a strip of deer hide and carried the bundle, slowly peeking her head out.

It was too dark to make anything specific out, but she could've sworn she saw a figure approaching her lean-to. Strapping most of her things to her back, she climbed the nearest tree to the highest branch that was willing to carry her weight. Clinging to the trunk, she watched the ground below her carefully. She couldn't take any chances – wouldn't take any chances, even if it might've been an animal.

It seemed like an eternity till someone came along. They were soldiers, from what she could tell, French too based on their uniforms. One of them spoke in a careful voice.

"Can't believe some child managed to fight her way out of captivity," he said. "There's no way she could've survived this long in this kind of weather."

"Then why have there been multiple reports of a Native child out here that match her description?" another voice asked, his tone more snapping than the former. "You see this? The fire has been recently snuffed, she must be close but it's too dark to make out any footprints. She has to be close."

"All this trouble over one child? Seems a bit much," a third voice said, this one more tired than the other two.

"She killed a _générale dans cette explosion_ (general in that explosion)! We have orders to bring her in, dead or alive. And I don't know about you two, but I would rather not be hanged," the first voice said sternly. They began to walk underneath the branch she was finding refuge under and she clung tighter to the trunk of the tree, hoping that she would mold into it and be protected further.

Thankful for the darkness, she let out a sigh of relief and leaned against the trunk of the tree, exhausted. From overhearing those soldiers' conversation, she needed to disappear. And fast.

* * *

**1775 – Davenport Homestead**

Myriam sighed as she leaned on her musket, wiping the sweat from her forehead. It had been a hot day in mid-July and a slow day as well for hunting. She had made a few kills here and there, but nothing big. Myriam was trying to hunt down an elk she spotted earlier, but the damned thing kept running away before she got a clear shot. Picking up her musket and placing it on her shoulder, Myriam started walking to where the elk might've gone.

Though she couldn't deny it, it was a rather nice day to loll about and dip your feet in the stream. Myriam thought about doing just that when she felt she made her quota for the day. As she walked through the clearing, a peculiar sight caught her eye. Holding her musket carefully in her hands, Myriam took careful steps, not knowing what to expect from the strange oddity she saw. The closer she got, the more defined it became. Or rather – how defined the woman became. Myriam could smell the blood and rushed towards the woman, kneeling beside the body. There was a deep gashes on the woman's inner thigh. That would've left a nasty scar, Myriam thought in the back of her mind.

The stranger's hair was matted and stuck to her face because of the blood. Tying a tourniquet around the woman's thigh to stop the bleeding and carried her on her shoulders, running as fast as she could. From all that blood loss, the woman was surely close to dying and needed immediate medical attention.

"Dr. White! Dr. White!" Myriam shouted as she ran to his house. Luckily for Myriam he was sitting on that stump in front of his house, smoking a pipe and reading. He looked up and was about to great Myriam until his eyes landed on the body that Myriam was carrying.

"What in God's name…?" the doctor started, leading the way to the tent where he treated his patients. "Set her down there." Myriam did as Dr. White instructed and took a step back so he could get a proper examination. "Where did you find her?" Dr. White asked.

"Out in the brush," Myriam began, a little breathless from the running with the extra weight. "I was trying to reach my quota for the day when I spotted her in a clearing. She lost a lot of blood…"

"That she has," the doctor said as he began to clean the wound and other bloody parts of the woman's body. "But if we act fast enough, she will make a full recovery. I can take care of things from here Myriam." The huntress nodded and slowly walked out of the tent, hoping that the woman would be all right like the doctor said.

Lyle White, in his many years as a doctor, was accustomed to seeing many different wounds and sickness in Boston. But frontier wounds? Those he was still getting used to. The gash on the woman's leg seemed to be caused by a large animal, more than likely a bear. There were smaller injuries all over as well; it looked like a bullet grazed her shoulder and from how the blood was splashed on her clothes and face, it looked to be as if the woman had gotten into a rather violent fight. The gash on her leg looked fresher than the other lacerations on her body.

After addressing the worst of her wounds and stitching the gash, Dr. White began to clean some of the blood off her face and in her hair. She was Native, from what he could see, and possibly something else because her skin was lighter than most Native peoples. Myriam came back a few hours later, carrying some items she found near where discovered the woman's body.

"I found these not far from that clearing," Myriam said as she placed each item carefully. She found a bow and a quiver of arrows, a tomahawk with a steel axe head, a steel knife with a very ornately decorated sheath, a few pouches that contained several herbs for wound treatment, and other miscellaneous items Myriam didn't know. But she had come to the same conclusion that the woman she found was Native, Myriam just didn't know what tribe.

She took a small step towards Dr. White and examined his work. His hands were red from all the blood her cleaned off the woman. "Will she be alright?" Myriam asked.

"Though she lost a lot of blood, I saw no signs of infection since she had wounds from earlier and she seems to be very healthy judging from how fit she is. I would say she's going to make a full recovery, but she will be out for the next day or two and will be very weak," the doctor answered. Myriam nodded, feeling a slight relief at hearing the good news.

"I also went to go tell Connor what happened, but only Achilles was home so I just passed along the message. He said Connor would be back the day after tomorrow and until then, possibly try and figure out what happened," Myriam said. Dr. White nodded, said his thanks and let Myriam get back her work.

Dr. White thought about removing the bloodied clothing from the woman, but decided against it, deeming it improper and that the woman could change into fresher clothes if she choose. Sighing, the doctor cleaned everything up (including himself) and decided on taking a break, returning to his favorite chair to sip a cup of brandy. He earned it, he thought, after an operation like that.

* * *

The woman was passed out for two days, and it only seemed appropriate given the condition she was found in. Dr. White had been there when she woke up, checking on her most serious wound to see if it was healing well. The woman slowly opened her eyes and groaned, slowly raising a hand to her face. She made a move to sit up, but Dr. White gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Careful, you lost a lot of blood and I wouldn't get up if I were you just yet," he said. The woman furrowed her eyebrows and slowly lied back down, too tired to put up a fight. She groaned again and sighed, feeling sore all over.

"Where am I?" she asked in hoarse voice. As her sight began to sharpen, she could tell she was in a medical tent and from the view from the entrance, somewhere on the frontier.

"You're on the Davenport Homestead, several miles north of Boston," Dr. White answered in a plain voice as he finished wrapping the bandage around the woman's thigh. "You're very lucky to be alive, you know. You were practically close to death when we found you."

The woman looked confused. "We?" she repeated. Dr. White raised his head at the way she said "we." There was a slight French twinge to it. She must be from Canada, from one of the tribes that traded with the French.

"One of the residents found you and brought you here. I'm a doctor, you see," Dr. White continued. "Sounds like you're a long way from home. May I know as to why you have traveled so far east?"

"No, you may not," the woman replied, her French accent becoming more articulate in her voice. She watched the doctor carefully as he began cleaning up his workstation. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Two days, roughly," he answered easily. Lyle heard the woman huff and curse under her breath. He turned his head and looked at the woman over her shoulder. She looked deeply troubled and looked mad enough to kill.

"I lost him! After two weeks of tracking him and becoming this close, I lost him! Damn Black Elk for getting me distracted and loosing the trail. I bet that this is just what they wanted too… What a mess," the woman said, mostly to herself. Her French accent came an went as she spoke, the doctor noticed, but he was more interested about this "Black Elk" person and this enigmatic person this woman was trying to track down.

"I understand you're upset, but you need to rest. You don't have enough strength to do much right now," Dr. White said, handing the woman a cup of lukewarm tea and some bread with cheese. The woman looked at the man for a moment, before slowly taking the food and drink.

"_Merci_," the woman said in a small voice.

The doctor nodded, "_Je vous en prie_ (you're welcome)."He stepped out of the tent for a moment, allowing the woman some privacy. Perhaps when she fully healed, he would ask what happened to her to cause those injuries and just leave it at that. As he was walking, a familiar face caught his eye.

"Connor!" the doctor greeted, "Good to see you're back." Connor nodded in reply, saying it was good to be home again. "I trust you're here to meet our new guest?"

"I am," Connor began, walking with Lyle towards the tent. "Achilles told me that Myriam found our… guest in the woods and was injured rather heavily." The doctor nodded.

"She just woke up actually," Lyle said. "Though she still might be slightly disoriented. She did lose a lot of blood and it'll take a while for her to be fully healed again." Connor nodded, taking in the doctor's words and followed him inside the tent. The woman had already finished the food and tea and was finishing dressing herself in the clean clothes Lyle left for her. Granted, they were men's clothes, but beggars couldn't be choosers. It was a simple shirt, a dark green vest and trousers. She didn't mind going barefoot. The woman looked at the pair oddly while she combed through her hair, pulling hard to get the knots out.

"Miss, this is Connor, he is the overseer of the land," the doctor began. It was at that moment Dr. White realized that he never asked for his patient's name. Inwardly slapping himself, he continued. "He just has a few questions for y-"

"I have nothing to say to a _Mohowaùuck_," the woman said in a rather sharp voice, leaning in the bed to keep her balance as she sat down. Connor gazed at the woman carefully. He was familiar with the word; a word used by many of his tribe's enemies, though one the Mohawk have never gone to war with. The slight French twinge in her voice helped in narrowing down where she was from.

"If you are worried I am here to cause trouble or something to that effect, do not worry. I was only passing through till I passed out from loosing too much blood," the woman answered. There was truth in her voice, that much Connor could tell. He crossed his arms.

"I heard that you had been attacked earlier, after you had been found," Connor said. "May I ask who attacked you?" The woman looked at him with a raised brow. Why did this man care to know who attacked her? It was none of his concern seeing as _they _weren't after this Mohawk man, nor would they want to.

"That is too personal of a question to ask," was all the woman said.

"May we at least know your name? I would hate to keep having to call you 'miss' without knowing your name," Lyle said in a polite voice.

"You may call me Colette," the woman replied. A small smile appeared on Dr. White's face.

"A pleasure to meet you Colette," he said before leaving the tent, thinking Connor would want to talk to Colette alone. Connor watched Dr. White leave, and then turned his head back to the woman sitting in front of him. She was rather pretty, with a high forehead, a round-ish face with prominent cheekbones, golden brown skin, and strong, green eyes.

"You called me _Mohowaùuck_, I take it you are Algonquin?" he asked. She nodded. "What nation?"

"Ojibwa, Chippewa, whichever you prefer. I am sure it is all the same to the Iroquois," Colette answered in a simple voice, seeing no harm in his question. "Though I prefer _Anishinaabe_, seeing as that is what my people call ourselves. I should mention, again, I do not intend to stay here long; you need not worry about me causing trouble. I need to get moving as soon as possible."

"Why hurry?" Connor said. "You need to recuperate, to get well again. It would be unwise to leave when you are not fully healed."

"That is what _you_ say, but I rarely listen to anyone nowadays. I cannot waste time sitting here for days while there is work to be done. I need to leave as soon as possible; only I can decide that."

"Is that what has brought you so far east? You are an awfully long way from your people."

"You could say that, yes," Colette began. "But I am going to leave it at that. I have nothing more to say to a _Mohowaùuck_." Connor inwardly huffed, but seeing as Colette didn't know where she was, it was understandable that she didn't want to talk much.

"We will talk more then," Connor said walking out of the tent.

"_If_ I feel like talking," Colette replied in a cool voice.


	2. The Hunt Begins (Again)

**A/N: Thank you to MissKayako for the review. It is much appreciated and I'm glad I have peaked your interest! To the others who favorited and subscribed, thank you very much!**

* * *

Connor had kept trying to speak with Colette on several different occasions, but his attempts lead him to nearly nothing. This newcomer was extremely stubborn, and it was starting to annoy Connor. She was also very disobedient too. Colette started taking small walks to stretch her legs but Dr. White had advised against it lest the stitches in her leg would come out. The woman would just wave her hand and continue walking till her soreness was too much to bear and sat back down on that cot in the medical tent.

It was starting to become a routine of sorts where Connor would try and speak with Colette. Despite her attempts at being stubborn and not wanting to say anything as to why she was attacked or where she had come from, Achilles kept pushing that Connor keep talking to her; if not about her personal business, then just casual small talk. But even then, Colette was stubborn as a mule and would always say, "I have nothing more to say to a _Mohowaùuck_," and then lay back down.

Truth be told, Connor was starting to find Colette almost insufferable. She barely spoke to anyone, disobeyed Dr. White's orders (something he found very disrespectful) and didn't seem the least bit grateful for the Homesteads help. Still, at Achilles urging, Connor kept trying. It had been nearly a full week since Colette had been found and Connor was at a loss of what to say to Colette at this point.

Currently, Colette was asleep and Connor was speaking with Dr. White outside his home.

"I'm highly convinced that that woman has listening problems," Dr. White huffed, taking a puff from his pipe. "Clearly she doesn't understand the phrase 'Doctor's orders.'" He finished with a slight groan.

Connor leaned his head to the side in agreement, "She is rather stubborn; it is very difficult to talk to her."

"Well, I suppose if you consider what happened to her – the condition Myriam found her in – it would make sense for her to be weary of other people. I will giver her this though, I think she has softened up a bit," the doctor said, banging his pipe against the railing of his porch, emptying the tobacco.

"What makes you say that?" Connor asked as he leaned against the wall, raising a curious brow.

"I think she isn't has hostile as she used to be," Dr. White began as he pushed his glasses up his nose. "She's calm down since she's been here, before she used to have the constant look of anxiety and anger. But now, I think she's realized something, or rather come to terms with… whatever was troubling."

"You mentioned she said a name. Black Elk, was it?"

"Ah, yes. Perhaps it has something to do with that. Though I can't right say since I'm not inside her head." Connor nodded, taking in what the doctor was saying. Dr. White had mentioned what Colette said after Connor's conversation with her, and he was curious to find out about who this Black Elk was. But Connor came to the conclusion that it wasn't his business and decided to leave the matter alone.

"Will you be here on the morrow?" the doctor asked randomly. "I know your work is rather time consuming." Connor sighed thoughtfully and lightly scratched his chin.

"I do not think I will, I may have gotten a lead on something and I would like to see if it will yield any results," Connor said in a plain voice. He didn't want to give away much for obvious reasons. Though Connor's answer seemed to pacify the doctor who nodded.

"I see," he said then gently patted Connor's back. "Good luck to you then. Goodnight Connor." The doctor started walking towards the steps onto his patio and the assassin pushed himself off the wall and began walking towards the manor to prepare for his leave. As the assassins walked past the medical tent, he looked over his shoulder briefly out of curiosity to see if Colette was asleep or not.

She was wide-awake; sitting on the cot with her injured leg held up and stretched so her stitches wouldn't be as sore. Her green eyes were piercing almost in the moonlight and for a moment, Colette reminded Connor of a mountain lion observing its surroundings with serious concentration. She gave him a shallow nod of acknowledgment. Connor returned the gesture and as he stood there, he was unsure of what to do. Should he approach her? Or should he just head back to the manor? New York was a ways away from the Homestead.

Sighing, Connor took casual steps towards Colette, who looked a little surprised. She kept rebuffing him when he tried talking about anything Colette considered too personal (which were most things, but still). A small laugh escaped her lips and she smirked.

"Would you like to talk about the weather now, _Mohowaùuck_?" Colette asked with a slight hint of amusement in her voice. Inwardly Connor rolled his eyes. She always had the worst attitude whenever he tried speaking with her.

"I just… wanted to see how you were fairing," Connor said simply. Colette looked taken back a little and her smirk changed into a smile.

"Well what do you know? Old enemies being polite to one another. Imagine that," she said in a soft tone that was still sharp with what sounded like sarcasm to Connor. He wanted to say that it was all one-sided and that he had been polite to her, but she had yet to be, but he decided against it. Connor figured if he did mention that, the conversation would be over before it began.

"You said you were leaving for New York," Colette said, this time her tone more matter-of-fact. "Why is that?" Had she overheard his conversation? She had better hearing than Connor thought.

"Business," Connor replied in a cool voice.

"Business?" Colette repeated, laughing a little. "You cannot fool me, _Mohowaùuck_. You are a killer of men, just like me." Colette added in a cool voice. Connor was shocked to hear such a thing as before Colette would simply give "yes" or "no" answers to his questions. But hearing that was like turning hard-to-port out of nowhere.

"I… beg your pardon?" Connor asked, stepping more inside the tent.

"We are both killers," Colette repeated. "I can tell because there is a certain regret behind your eyes. I think, perhaps, the only difference between you and me is that we fight for a different cause. What your cause is, I do not know and to be honest, I do not really care to know."

"So what is your cause to fight then?" Connor asked, almost cutting off Colette as she finished her sentence. This was the first thing that was so personal Colette had shared with anyone on the Homestead so far. The curiosity inside Connor was bubbling at this point. Colette looked straight on, but she looked at the assassin from the corner of her eye.

"My freedom," was all she said. "And that is all I will say, _Mohowaùuck_." The vague answer didn't surprise Connor in the least, but was satisfied in someway that Colette had opened up, even if it was just a little bit. Connor simply nodded his head and made to leave the tent. Colette didn't say a word when Connor left.

* * *

Colette came to accept the fact that she lost Black Elk's trail and that it would take time again to track him all over again. It seemed for every step Colette took forward, she was pushed back two more. Sighing, she let the doctor examine her injuries, asked how she was feeling – the usual procedure. Connor had left for New York two nights ago and Dr. White said the stitches were ready to come out. Colette had always been a fast healer and was thankful that she could walk around and move her leg without feeling the soreness of the stitches, though her leg was still rather sore overall.

She decided to take it easy and walked around the doctor's house several times to help stretch out her body. Colette missed the fresh air and knew she wouldn't miss the smell of medical equipment.

"You're free to leave whenever you feel able to," Dr. White said after Colette had gotten used to walking again. "Your leg has healed up quite nicely." Colette couldn't help but smile in relief. She was glad to be out of that tent and into the open air again. She nodded to Dr. White.

Limping/walking back to the tent to collect her things, Colette also noticed that her clothes, the ones she wore when she had been brought here, had been cleaned, with reinforced stitching and the bloodstains removed. Colette was slightly confused as to who took the time and effort to do such a thing, but inwardly thanked the person nonetheless.

The short-sleeve shirt was of Colette's own making; it was a deep v-neck that hung loose on her shoulders, but was held up in a knot that Colette tied behind her neck. The collar was loose and hung around the shirt like a skirt over pants, while the body of it clung to her figure. It was a scarlet red color, so even then it would be difficult to see any bloodstains. Tucking her shirt into her trousers, Colette tied a beaded belt (something of her own creation) around her hips to hold her pouches that contained several herb medicines and poisons. Over her trousers Colette wore a half skirt that was of the same color and pattern as her shirt, where on the inside she made pockets to hold any extra items.

After putting on her bracelets, necklace, and boots, Colette did was braid her hair into two separate braids with her side bands framing each side of her face. The last thing Colette did wrap her braids in otter skins and placed her best friend's headband on her head, still letting her fringe fly free. Strapping her weapons on her, Colette emerged from the tent, ready to leave. The doctor was nowhere to be seen and frankly, Colette didn't want to bother looking for him. She had to make up time for loosing it while she was in recovery mode.

Now, she needed to find a horse.

* * *

Due to the good weather, Colette was able to make it to New York with relative easiness. She managed to procure a horse… though some would call it stealing depending on your moral view. Before being ambushed by Black Elk, Colette had been tracking her target and it seemed as if he was heading to New York. What business Colette's target had was beyond her understanding, but that's where the clues lead for her.

Unsure of where to start, Colette walked the streets of New York, looking for a certain tavern where she knew she could talk to someone who knew everything about everyone. There was a nagging feeling eating away at Colette as she knew time was running short for her to catch her target. Hopefully this contact could help speed things up.

It was well into the East District of New York, and probably one of the finer ones in this part of the city. Tying up the horse at the stable, Colette walked inside. The smell of alcohol was pungent but after a few deep breaths she grew used to the smell. No one seemed to pay any attention to a half-Native woman as each patron seemed consumed by his or her own business.

"He is probably upstairs," Colette said mostly to herself. And sure enough, sitting at one of the tables was a very familiar face. The man looked up from the rim of his glass and his eyes practically sparkled.

"Well, well! If it be favourite Forest Fruit," Thomas Hickey slurred. Colette rolled her eyes. She always hated it when Hickey called her that. She made a mental note to do something about the next time she came to Hickey for information.

"Gotta say, ye flatter me by comin' to me to join the Templas."

"Save your breath, Thomas. I am not here to join your merry band of _les hommes fous_ (crazy men)," Colette said in a rather scathing tone so that she could get her message across. She wanted to show that she wasn't in the mood for games. But with Hickey, almost everything was a game. Colette sat across from Hickey and looked at him straight in the eye.

Hickey's smirk didn't falter even with Colette's response. "Wot can I do fer ye then, sweetheart?"

"I need you to help me find someone."

He chuckled and took a swig of his ale, "I thought I alrea'y helped ye there. Did ye get cold feet or somefin'?"

"Hardly," Colette answered. "I was ambushed by one of Cut Cheek's men, Black Elk, and now I am afraid I have lost the trail."

"Sounds like ye got a sticky situation 'ere," Hickey said. He sucked on his teeth and glanced at Colette. "Why'd Black Elk ambush you?"

"He probably knew I was after him to get closer to Cut Cheek. But I do not need him necessarily. I am sure if I go after Cut Cheek's other people, things will begin to fall into my favor."

Hickey chuckled again, "Always did luff a woman with confidence." He paused to take another sip of his drink. "Who ye need me to find?" Taking a folded piece of paper out of her shirt, Colette handed it to Hickey. She had to rewrite the list since it was torn to shreds when Black Elk attacked her.

"I alrea'y know fer a fact that French bastard Javert is in the city," Hickey said, still looking at the note carefully despite being inebriated. "'s hard to point out where though. Bastard keeps moving around all the fucking place."

"It suffices for a start," Colette said as she took back her piece of paper. "When did your spies last see him?"

"Hem… West District, near the harbors," Hickey said. "Can't really narrow it down from there. But! I hope ye have some kind of payment for me? I jus' don' give out information fer free, luff." Without saying anything, Colette slammed down ten shillings and passed them to Hickey, who looked more than pleased. Hickey chuckled.

"Always a pleasure, darlin'," Hickey said as he stuffed his pocket with the money. Colette nodded and stood up to go leave.

"Enjoy your tits and booze, Hickey," Colette said without looking back. She heard Hickey laugh before calling a woman to his side, sitting her in his lap. Colette descended down the stairs and exited the tavern, slightly relieved when the stench of the city greeted her. Untying her horse from the stable, Colette saddled herself, wincing slightly from her leg injury, and made her way for West District. If Hickey was right, which he usually was with his vat network of spies, then Javert had probably made his temporary headquarters there.

Colette was able to navigate herself easily through the streets as she had been to New York many times in the past. Colette was greeted by the shrieking of seagulls once she reached the harbors. There was also swearing of sailors who walked to and fro, complaining or just simply talking. Unsaddling her horse, Colette walked around, simply observing the area.

There was nothing remarkable here, really. To a normal person, it looked to be business as usual, to Colette, it was a matter of trying to find a somewhat familiar face. Cut Cheek's network was widespread, so surely she would run into someone she knew. Walking down one of the streets that lead away from the harbor, Colette was unsure of where to look first. Hickey said Javert was always moving which wouldn't help much in Colette's search. Sighing, Colette continued walking till a familiar voice caught her attention.

"I told you, I didn't take anything!" the voice said. It sounded strangled like they were trying to fight somebody.

"You little liar! Do I look like a fool to you?" the voice said, with a heavy British accent.

"Is that a serious question?" the first voice asked.

"Why you little-!"

"Hey! That is enough!" Colette said as she ran towards the scene. One of the two redcoats was pinning a young teenage boy to a wall. Colette looked to the boy with a look of exasperation while the boy seemed a little of ashamed of what was happening.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" the second redcoat asked. Colette smirked and held out her hands.

"Why not come here and find out." The redcoat charged at Colette, ready to stab her with the bayonet attached to his musket, but Colette was quicker. Taking out her knife and tomahawk, she deflect the blow, which made an opening for her to make a solid kick to the man's side. While the solider staggered and tried to catch his breath, Colette stabbed him in the shoulder and buried her tomahawk deep into the man's neck.

The first redcoat, the one who had been pinning the bow against the wall, watched in shock at how a woman easily defeated a man with hardly any effort. The boy saw his chance and kicked the man in his balls. Having the wind knocked out of him, the solider fell to the ground wheezing and the boy stabbed him fatally with his machete. Sighing, the boy jogged to Colette's side.

"Where have you been? You said you would meet me here after you-"

"I know what I said, Javier!" Colette nearly snapped. Javier looked upset a little when Colette snapped at him. She sighed and closed her eyes. "_Je suis désolé _(I am sorry). It is just… much has happened this past week. _Vous allez bien_? (Are you alright?)"

"_Sí, estoy bien_ (Yeah, I'm fine)," Javier replied.

"What did you do to anger the guards like that?" Colette asked as they started walking away from the bloody sight. Javier gave a sheepish smile and twiddled his fingers.

"Well… I may or may not have stolen something from them," the half-Spanish boy asked. Colette groaned and face palmed. "It wasn't anything big really, just a piece of paper that I thought would be useful!" Javier explained as he took the said piece of paper out of his pockets.

Colette took it and rolled it out. It was a map of the district and the supposed movements of the "rebel spy network." Along with that was a list of names, Javert included. Colette smiled with a mix of glee and wickedness.

"What is it?" Javier asked, seeing Colette's expression.

"It means my job just got a whole lot easier," Colette said with a wide smile. Javier looked slightly pleased with himself at grabbing something that would help his friend along her journey.

"So, where do we go next?" Javier asked as he trotted to keep up with Colette.

"Now? Now we go and find a few _vieux amis _(old friends)."


	3. Interrogation

**A/N: Thank you to people who reviewed! I'm really happy more people are finding this story so interesting and are favoriting and subscribing! It makes me happy and feels all warm and fuzzy. Thank you very much!**

* * *

"Who are we looking for again?" Javier asked as he moved his head around, looking at the crowd and taking in every detail.

"One of Javert's accomplices or spies. I knew most of them, and according to Thomas they are operating in this part of New York," Colette answered in a plain voice. She kept her eyes forward and alert, hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar face. Javier kept up with Colette's long strides surprisingly. The half-Native woman usually towered over most women her age.

The two made a rather odd sight as they walked the streets of New York; a half-Ojibwa, half-French woman walking beside a half-Spanish boy who's mother had been a slave from West Africa brought to Puerto Rico to serve a noble family. Not that Javier was noble. In fact, he had been orphaned. It was a complicated story, but from what he told Colette, his mother had a brief romance with a Spanish merchant in San Juan, but left her when Javier's mother became pregnant with him. Javier lost his mother to sickness when he was six and made his way to the Colonies by the time he was nine. He survived by way of thievery till Colette crossed paths with him.

"You should know somebody too, Javier," Colette said as they continued walking around the markets. "You have been around Cut Cheek's men before. Use that special talent of yours." Javier looked at Colette, motivated by his mentor's determination. Closing his eyes and concentrating, Javier took a deep breath and focused his mind.

Opening his eyes, several of the nearby guards glowed a bright red while the rest of the crowd just moved a blurs. There was a thief across the marketplace that glowed blue, probably an old friend of his, Javier couldn't tell from this distance.

"Anything yet?" Colette asked as they kept walking. Javier shook his head as he kept looking around here and there. This was the fourth marketplace they had been to this afternoon and still they haven't found anything yet. Colette was getting a little agitated, and understandably so. But Javier didn't want to have his mentor getting too angry, so he was persistent in searching for anything, anyone.

Finally, a brief shimmer of gold caught Javier's eye. "Hold on… I think I see something." Ignoring the blistering headache, Javier walked towards the golden figure. Colette followed behind him, a feeling of anxiousness filling up inside her. Her eyes followed to where Javier was walking and Colette squinted her eyes a little, as if to focus her eyesight. Finally, her eyes landed on a face she knew. She smirked and patted Javier's shoulder, her silent way of saying that his part of the job was over. At least for this part.

"Meet back at the hideout," Colette said in a low voice. Javier nodded, his eyesight turning back to normal. He ran down the next alleyway and to the rendezvous point where he and Colette usually stayed in New York.

The person they had found was a woman, Javert's personal assistant. If Colette remembered correctly, the woman's name was Marie. She was a fellow Frenchwoman from Canada, just like her boss. Currently, Marie was preoccupied with a peddler who had different kinds of meats and foods at his stand.

"I only need one!" Marie shouted at the peddler, but the salesman kept shaking his head.

"No! I cannot go that low for a fine pork roast such as this!" he said. Marie huffed and threw her arms up in the air. Colette took this time to step in. While watching the exchange, she had already come up with a plan on how to get Marie to talk.

"Having some trouble, _niijikwe _(friend)?" Colette asked in a sugary voice, standing next to Marie with her hands folded behind her back. At first Marie sighed with relief and her shoulders drooped as she started to relax.

"_Merci beaucoup_, I…," Marie's smile faded and her face paled when she saw Colette's bright, smiling face. "Colette?" she said barely above a whisper. The shock in her face was more amusing that Colette imagined earlier. "You… I thought you were dead!" Marie whispered harshly.

The salesman looked between the two women, completely confused. But, being a man, he cleared his throat and spoke in what he thought was a strong voice. "Is anyone gonna buy this pork roast or not?" he said, almost sounding like a child that no one was paying attention to him. Both Colette and Marie glared at the man, telepathically telling him it was time to leave. Not being a complete fool, the man raised his hands in surrender and started backing away, leaving the two women to themselves.

"Now, where were we?" Colette asked feigning confusion.

"We were speaking about how you were supposed to be dead. Black Elk took care of you after what happened Lexington! He told us!" Marie nearly shrilled. Colette's eyebrows rose up in realization.

"Well, it would appear Black Elk did not his job very well. Would you not agree?" Colette asked as she discreetly unsheathed her knife from behind her back. Normally Marie would've noticed a move like that, but her shock blindsided her. All she could think was how in God's name did Colette survive Black Elk's ambush?

"Now, let us not make this too difficult please," Colette said taking Marie's arm roughly, twisting it behind her back and poking her spine with the knife. Marie winced and whined slightly, but made no sound. Marie made a slight struggle to get free, but Colette's iron grip made her stop.

"It will be much easier and faster if you just do as I say. You of all people should know how this goes, Marie," Colette whispered in the woman's ear. Marie flinched a little and took a deep breath.

"Whatever you want to know, I'll tell you," Marie said in a slightly shaking voice. "I'll cooperate. You have my word."

"But I do not care for your word," Colette said in an uncaring, almost bored tone. She began leading them towards the rendezvous point where Javier was waiting. Marie was shaking, and her pulse was quickening from what Colette felt as she had a good grip on Marie's wrist.

"Where are you taking me?" Marie asked as the sweat dripped down her forehead and neck. Colette didn't respond, she found that saying where she was taking her hostage made them less reluctant or too scared to talk. Colette just let Marie simmer in fear and confusion, hoping that it _would_ help move things faster.

Once at the meeting place, Colette used her foot to open the door where Javier stood patiently next to a chair and some rope. Marie looked between Javier and Colette, the terror absolutely plain on her face. Colette sat Marie down on the chair, and Javier – used the to procedure – wrapped the rope around Marie several times and around the chair, tying it tightly so she wouldn't get out. Keeping her word, Marie didn't struggle but instead glowered at Colette who stood in front of her, almost stoic faced.

"You have me here. _Et maintenant_ (and now)?" Marie asked. Her blonde hair was starting to stick to her face from how much she was sweating from the heat, her fear, and apprehension.

"It is all very simple really," Colette began, holding out her hands. "You tell me how to find Javert, or Black Elk. Either one will work for me."

"Why? It was nearly two years ago when it happened, Colette! Get over it!" Marie shouted, spitting on the ground. Colette's eyes narrowed and she took a step forward.

"Javier," was all Colette said as she held out her hand. Quickly the boy handed his machete to Colette. Marie visibly swallowed and looked at Colette who moved the blade around in expert circles. Javier knew where this was about to go and decided to leave the building, leaving Colette to do her work. He never did like seeing the way Colette interrogated people.

Colette looked up at Marie through her eyelashes. There was a dark look in her eyes that made Marie more nervous than she already was and Marie regretted what she said earlier.

"You are right, it was nearly two years ago," Colette began as she walked closer towards Marie. "But that does not forgive the fact that Cut Cheek tried to kill me. You included." Colette finished, pointing the machete at Marie, who gulped.

"And… and how could we not? You were getting out've control! Someone had to – AAAHHH!" Colette slapped Marie hard across the face, effectively cutting her off. The slap was so hard that Marie had bit her tongue hard and spat out some blood.

"If anyone was to blame, it is Cut Cheek! The reason I was becoming 'out of control' was because he would not let me leave! You of all people should know once you start working for him, you are _never_ free!" Colette snapped. Marie looked up at the Native woman through her tattered blonde hair.

"That's right, you can't," Marie agreed. She turned her head up and used her shoulder to get the hair out of her face. "But… it's better to work with Cut Cheek than be against him. You of all people… should know that too, Colette."

Colette took a deep breath, kneeling down so she was eye-level with Marie. "Do you see why I need to kill him?" Marie's face contorted and she spat on the ground near Colette's feet.

"You would just make things worse," Marie argued. "You know Cut Cheek has powerful friends."

"Yes, that may be true. But they like me more than him," Colette replied with an amused smirk.

"I highly doubt that," Marie said.

"Think what you will, but I need to know where Javert is. So," Colette paused and shoved the machete into Marie's leg close to the kneecap. With one jerk of her wrist, Colette could easily pop Marie's knee off. The blonde gave a bloody shriek and tears started rolling down her face.

"Focus, I need you to focus now," Colette said, gently patting Marie's face to get her attention. "Where is Javert?"

"I… I don't know, I don't know," Marie sobbed. Colette sighed and moved the machete a little closer to the knee. The woman cried louder than a woman would giving birth.

"I know you are lying Marie," Colette said in a casual voice. "You do not think I know how close you two work together?"

"I sincerely don't know, Colette! Ever since you killed Warren and Pike, he's gone into hiding. I barely see him now! The only time I do is when he has something for me to do! I swear, _Je le jure devant Dieu_ (I swear to God)!" Marie sobbed hard and looked Colette in the eye. The Native could see there was genuine fear in Marie's eyes, but Colette was not entirely convinced.

"When are you meeting him next?" Colette asked.

"Three days from now, on 3rd Avenue in the North District," Marie panted. Colette eyed the woman suspiciously.

"If you are leading me into a trap…"

"I'm not! I swear, I swear, I swear!"

"I know you swear, Marie. I heard you swear all the time," Colette replied. She sighed and glanced at Marie. The blonde gave a pleading look to Colette, panting and sweating and crying. The Native could see the truth in Marie's face and, with a quick motion, pulled the machete out of the woman's leg. Marie cried out and heaved, coughing and gasping.

"I believe you," Colette said to Marie, brushing some hair out of her face. "I sincerely do." Marie took a huge sigh of relief and smiled weakly at Colette, crying tears of relief.

"_À tes souhaits_ (Bless you), Colette! _À tes souhaits_!" Marie cried as more and more tears fell down her face, her blue eyes shimmering.

"But I cannot take any chances," Colette added in a strong, low voice. Marie's smile fell and her jaw began to quiver.

"What?" was all Marie asked. Before another word was said, Colette grabbed the machete with both hands and struck Marie in the head, burying it so deep that Colette had to use her foot to get the machete out of Marie's skull.

Sighing and wiping her face, Colette walked out of the building and onto the street where Javier was waiting. His eyes widened at the sight of blood and his machete dripping. They were both silent as Colette washed her face and arms to get the blood off.

"Did you find anything?" was all Javier asked. Colette nodded and used a nearby hanging blanket to dry her face and hands.

"Javert will 'meet' Marie on 3rd Avenue in the North District in three days. We kill the head of Cut Cheek's spy network, we cut off his ears," Colette said with a small smile, happy she had made a rather nice step forward after being pushed back. Javier gave a half-smile in return, but he always felt uneasy after he knew Colette killed someone.

"It is essential to survival," Colette would tell him in the past. "It is either kill or bed killed." Still, Javier knew he wasn't the killing type, and he didn't think he would ever be that kind of person. Javier enjoyed gathering intel, doing spy work instead. Which is why Colette offered him to work with her, becoming not only her accomplice, but his teacher as well, considering he had his own ties to Cut Cheek he wanted to get rid of.

"What do we do till then?" Javier asked, looking up at Colette. The woman pressed her lips together in a thin line and hummed, thinking.

"See if we cannot cut off more ear," Colette replied. Javier nodded, deeming it a reasonable move to reach their goal. They turned onto a busy street near the center of the city where people were walking up and down, minding their own business; save for the few people who gave odd sideways glances to Javier and Colette.

Eventually Colette led them to the tavern where she met Hickey earlier. They stopped in front of the door and Colette turned to face her pupil. "I will be a while taking care of some business when we meet Javier. Go to the safe house and stay there. I will let you know when it is time."

This was a bit of the usual procedure between Javier and Colette. Because she did care about his safety and well-being, she had him stay out of most of the danger. Javier was a brilliant sharp shooter and Colette mostly had him as a sniper on her missions if the occasion called for it. Javier nodded and made for the safe house while Colette stepped inside.

The tavern was slightly emptier than usual, save for the last few patrons that stayed before closing. Walking up the stairs, Colette spotted Hickey at the same table from earlier, only this time he was huddled around by his accomplices. The only one Colette had met was Charles Lee (she had almost accidently killed him as she mistaked him as her target during one of her missions), but the other faces were more new to her. There was one face though that struck Colette. Even with the gray hair tied neatly into a ponytail, he looked strikingly like the _Mohowaùuck_ Colette met while she recovered from her injuries.

Hiding her slight confusion, the men seemed to have been done talking for the night and made to leave. Charles nodded his head to Colette in acknowledgement, which she returned, while the other three looked at Colette with some degree of curiosity before they simply looked at each other and continued on their merry way. Colette took confidant strides towards Hickey and sat down across from him.

"That wos fast," he simply said with an impressed smile on his face.

"Thanks to your help, Thomas," Colette replied with a small smile. Thomas chuckled and tossed his glass aside as he waited for another refill.

"Did ye find 'im? Javert?"

"No, but I did find the next best thing: his personal assistant. Ever since you tipped me off about Warren and Pike he has been hiding himself from me, only corresponding by letters now. Smart man, but not smart enough," Colette said in a smooth voice as she reclined in her seat, crossing her legs.

Thomas chuckled again. "Wot happened to the assistant?"

"I could not afford any loose ends," Colette said plainly. "I killed her. I am surprised by how easily she was willing to talk. Even though she told me where she was going to meet Javert, I am weary it might be another ambush. I will need some men to back me up in case there is another ambush." This time Thomas did not look amused. His brow furrowed and he grumbled a little.

"I cannot afford what happened to me after Lexington again, Thomas," Colette explained. "I was outnumbered ten to one. I need to tip the odds into my favor for this one. I _need_ my freedom."

Thomas was still silent as he contemplated Colette's words. Sighing, he swirled his drink in circles in the cup. He looked between his glass and Colette's eyes.

"Do not make me beg, Thomas," Colette said darkly. At that Thomas laughed. Colette begging? That was something he'd pay to see, though he'd rather her beg for something else.

"Wos in it fer me?" he asked, looking at her square on.

"You will no longer have any interference in your spy network, I would think that would be enough, Thomas," Colette said. He leaned his head to the side. Yeah, that would be nice… But it wasn't enough for him.

"Perhaps we can… come to an arrangement?" Thomas asked. The lurid thoughts in his head made his manhood stir and he adjusted himself in his seat. But, Colette was no fool, and she knew what kind of man she was dealing with. Kicking his chair underneath him, Thomas face-planted onto the table before falling to the floor, groaning. Colette stood on top of him, one leg on each side. She kneeled down and slammed her knife down next to Thomas's ear. His head was still spinning, so Colette poured a glass of water over his face to help him sober up. He coughed up some water and looked at Colette as is she had gone mad. Not too mention he was furious, but seeing a woman's anger did something to a man. It made Thomas slightly afraid.

"Now that I have your attention, I will pay you any sum of money you want should you consider my offer and take it seriously. But if you _ever_ speak to me like that again, I will cut off you manhood and feed it to the _wolves_. Do I make myself clear?" Colette said through barred teeth.

What was that old saying? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? Hickey was starting to believe in that theory now.

"Yea, I understand ye," he said slowly.

"Good. Is 100 pounds enough?"

"More than enough."

"We have a deal then," Colette took her knife and put it back in its sheath and stood over Hickey, smirking. "Pleasure as always, Thomas."

"Yea… Pleasure," the Irishman repeated as he got up, his head still ringing from what just happened.


	4. Approaching Target

**A/N: It's been awhile! Yeah, it's been a while! Got busy with college and stuff, plus I got sick too. But enough of my excuses! Let us get to the story!**

* * *

**Fort de Buade, Northwest Territory – 1764 (Winter)**

Colette stood there nervously, wrapped in the fur blanket they had given her. She shivered from how anxious she was and how the cold seemed to have seeped into the walls of the abandoned fort. This was where, supposedly, she could get the help she needed. Sniffling, Colette rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. She hoped she wasn't getting sick now.

The man watching over her, a tall and handsome Cree man who called himself John, watched her curiously. This little girl who was no bigger than a twig branch, had traveled for miles claiming she needed to disappear. She didn't really explain how or why, just that she needed to see Cut Cheek.

When John told Cut Cheek there was a young girl to see him, Cut Cheek laughed and laughed and laughed. But seeing John's seriousness, Cut Cheek told him to give him a few minutes and then he'd see her. There were some British troops at the fort this particular day, hoping to use Cut Cheek's mercenaries to help them in the war.

He struck a deal with them, sending some of his best fighters with the troops. Cut Cheek looked at John and nodded, letting him know to bring the girl in. John returned the gesture and guided the girl inside. Colette looked like a pathetic thing to Cut Cheek. She was so skinny that it showed in how gaunt her cheek were. To him, Colette looked like nothing. But to Colette, Cut Cheek looked just as frightening as the rumors made him out to be.

He laughed when his eyes landed on Colette. "Look at this little pathetic thing! She's no bigger than my thumb!" He continued laughing and so did some of the men behind Cut Cheek. They all looked nervous though to Colette, like they were scared to anger him.

"She says she needs your help," John said in his usual calm tone. Cut Cheek immediately stopped laughing and looked at John.

"Are you speaking for her now? Cannot she not speak on her own?" Cut Cheek said in a low voice. Colette felt a shiver go down her spine when he said that. She could slowly see the anger forming in Cut Cheek's eyes. John still maintained his composure despite his boss getting in his face.

Cut Cheek started laughing again, slapping John on the shoulder. "You need to learn how to relax, John! I don't know how you can be so serious all the time." Laughing and scratching the side of his face, Cut Cheek walked in front of Colette and kneeled in front of her.

"Why do you need my help, _abinoojiinh_ (child)?" Cut Cheek asked in a clearly sugarcoated voice. "Isn't _gibaabaa _(your father) worried about you? Or _gimaamaa_ (your mother)?" Cut Cheek was Ojibwa too it seemed, seeing as he spoke the language as if it were his Mother Tongue.

Despite her shaking, and the paralyzing fear rattling inside her, Colette never broke her gaze. She thought of running away while she could. It still wasn't too late. She could just say she changed her mind and that she planned on going home, but after seeing how quickly Cut Cheek's temperament could change, Colette decided it would be best to not make him angry or cause him to do her harm.

"My father is dead," Colette answered in her most stable sounding voice. "And I do not know where my mother is." Cut Cheek looked a little surprised and his eyebrows rose.

"Your English is very good despite that accent," Cut Cheek said, referring to the slight twinge of French in her speech. He leaned in, getting a closer look at Colette. "Was your mother white?" Colette nodded, adding that her father was Ojibwa her mother was French, according to her father. Cut Cheek chuckled and nodded his head.

"Yeah, been seeing a lot of half-breeds lately." Colette bit the inside of her cheek hard when he said that. That's what the guards called her while she was in captivity. It made her blood boil being called that by a fellow kinsman. "What makes you so special that you come to me, asking for help?"

"I need to disappear."

Cut Cheek gave a curt laugh. This child was serious? "What'd a small thing like you do? Better yet, what can someone like you do?"

"You heard what happened at Fort Michilimackinac, right? That big explosion that killed hundreds of soldiers and set hundreds of captured men and women free?" He nodded. "That was I. And now, a fracture of the French army is after me. They were negotiating with a British patrol; slaves for free movement in the area." Cut Cheek looked at Colette, unsure of whether to laugh or actually believe this girl's story.

Sure, he heard the rumors - a small Ojibwa child setting fire to a fort, causing cause for one side and freedom for another. But it just seemed so ridiculous that Cut cheek stopped caring. But the more he looked at Colette, the more Cut Cheek began seeing how serious Colette was being. She was telling the truth.

The men all spoke in low voices, muttering to one another. John looked genuinely surprised. A small thing like her doing something like that? It didn't seem believable, though there were always crazy stories such as this one that some turned out to be true. John could see the scars she had from enduring something like that; they were plain on her face. Every warrior knew about the different kinds of scars and most were so easy to see.

"Did you really mean to free all those people? To kill all those men?" Cut Cheek asked. He was actually very curious now. Colette shook her head.

"I only meant to get the guard watching over me, get the _générale_, and then leave without anyone seeing me. The explosion I had to make up," Colette explained, shuffling on her feet a little. Cut Cheek looked amused. This little girl had his full attention now.

"What do they call you?" Cut Cheek asked. Colette wanted to scoff. This man had no culture! Directly asking for her name? She never really understood the "civilized culture" that Cut Cheek seemed to have embraced.

"Colette," she said in a small voice. Cut Cheek bit his lip and nodded eagerly.

"Alright, Colette," he began, "you have my full attention."

* * *

**North District, New York – 1775**

The warm, humid air gave a sense of comfort to Colette as she waited. The past three days were a blur of organizing her attack for Javert, gathering more intel on the purpose of the meeting between Marie and Javert, and keeping an eye out for more targets. Colette also commissioned Hickey to get rid of Marie's body whichever way he saw fit. With the plague breakout, they burned Marie's body in a pile of infected blankets. The police called it an act of homicide and were unable to indentify the body or pinpoint the killer.

Colette gave Hickey an earful for being so reckless; that an act like that might have Javert spooked. Thomas, blasé as ever, brushed off her concerns. He assured her that his spies confirmed Javert was still in the city and didn't show signs of leaving anytime soon. Though he did charge Colette extra for getting rid of Marie's body.

At Colette's suggestion, Javier stationed himself on the rooftops, his musket ready to be fired when given the signal. His objective was to injure Javert so that Colette could take him aside for questioning. Javert was no fighter and would run at the first sight of conflict. Javier was to make sure that didn't happen.

Sighing, Colette pulled the cloak closer to her more for comfort than anything else. It was ten till nine; Javert would be here anytime soon now. Crossing her arms, Colette leaned her head back, doing another round to make sure everyone was in their correct positions.

Nodding in satisfaction, Colette gave an encouraging nod to Javier. He nodded in return, smiling at his mentor. He looked up the street and signaled they were coming. Colette turned around and sure enough, there they were. Javert and what looked like a fairly good portion of his spy network. Smiling, Colette lowered her head so the hood hid her face and walked forward.

Javert nodded, looking relieved at seeing "Marie," his favored assistant. He smiled and slowly waved his hand. "Good to see you," he said in a low voice.

Colette raised her head and smirked, practically enjoying at seeing Javert's expression. "Happy to know I am still in one piece?" Colette asked, tossing the cloak aside. Javert's men readied their muskets, aiming at Colette.

"You bloody fool," Javert started, still in disbelief. "Where's Marie?!"

"Dead. Did you not here? It was a homicide; burned with a pile of blankets infected with the pox." Colette took a step forward and one guard cocked his musket. Colette sharply turned her head the person. The poor man… he was shaking like a leaf and looked like he was going to piss himself.

Javert paled, audibly swallowing down his fear as best as he could. "C-Cut Cheek knows you're after him! But he'll find you first! He always finds the people who are after him first!"

"Good thing I do not leave loose ends then. He will have his hands full trying to find me," Colette said in a light voice, quickly taking out her pistol and shooting the man who cocked his musket earlier in the head. The gun clanged on the ground and Colette sprinted to the other side of the street while the bullets dodged around her.

Hickey's men then jumped in, shooting them from above and from the street, taking cover in the charred ruins. Javier had kept his eyes on Javert the whole time and when his target started running, Javier aimed a few feet away and shot Javert in the foot. Circling around the conflict, Colette ran up to him.

The Frenchman tumbled and rolled onto the ground, howling in pain. He tried standing up, reaching his arm to prop himself up, but he was stopped when Colette stomped on his wrist. Javert cried out and felt himself mess in his pants.

"Blank Elk. Where is he?"

"For fuck's sake, Colette!" Javert sobbed.

"Where?!" Colette screamed in Javert's ear. She took out another pistol and cocked it, aiming for Javert's head. The man sobbed harder.

"Please let me live… Please Colette I don't want to die…"

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you helped Cut Cheek in trying to kill me," Colette hissed. "Black Elk. **Now**!"

"Boston! He's in Boston! He's hiding out at the Green Dragon Tavern under the name Michael Burns!" Javert cried. He looked so pathetic to Colette, with his puffy cheeks and eyes and the snot dripping down his nose. Then there was the dirt that was smudged on his face. She sighed. It wasn't much, but it'd so for a start. Hopefully.

"_Migwetch_," Colette shot Javert and walked away like it was nothing. The men Javert brought with him were easily dealt with and Hickey's men were in the process of lining the bodies up, getting ready to dispose of them. The blood would have to be dealt with later as British troops were already on their way.

"Give Hickey my thanks," Colette said to one of the men. He nodded in response and started dragging Javert's body to the growing pile. Javier jogged up to Colette. She smiled at him. "You made me proud with that shot you made." He smiled widely.

"Did you find anything out?" Javier asked as he walked in stride with Colette, leaving the scene for Hickey's men to deal with.

"Black Elk is in Boston. Javert gave me where he's hiding and what alias Black Elk is using," Colette answered. But something was gnawing at the back of her mind. Something didn't seem right and Javier noticed this.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Javert gave up the information so easily. I suspect it will bode us ill. We will have to stay more alert now more than ever. We are getting close."

* * *

It cost Colette a few more pounds, but she was able to grease a few palms into not investing the scene where last night's confrontation took place. She and Javier stayed in New York for a few more days, doing any extra clean up in Cut Cheek's spy network.

They took out a few couriers, some small names that wouldn't go missing. Once they started hitting more brick walls did Colette decide that it was time to start heading to Boston. During one last sweep through, Colette was walking down 5th Avenue when a familiar face caught her eye.

It was the _Mohowaùuck_ who had helped her earlier. He was speaking to someone; a tall man with a baldhead and a thick brown mustache. Connor hadn't seen her yet, so Colette kept walking as if nothing concerned her or troubled. She was curious to hear about what they were talking about, so she walked a little closer towards them to hear better.

"And they currently have no leads?" Connor asked in subtle disbelief.

"No, but the police are verking on it," the other man replied. German, Colette guessed by his accent. "Strange though, is it not? Traces of blood several miles long, yet no bodies?"

"Strange indeed," Connor hummed, lacing his fingers together. Colette stiffened and continued to act natural. Inwardly, she was beginning to panic. They were on her trail now? Or did they even suspect her? She assumed not since she gave the men to be thorough as possible. Apparently they weren't thorough enough.

"Any sign of Hickey or his location?" Connor added, looking at Jacob. The German sighed and crossed his arms. Shaking his head, he told Connor about the unfortunate news.

"The others didn't get very far in Boston, and so far ve have come across many dead ends in finding him. We did have one possible contact, but they vanished. Possibly in that scuffle that happened a few night ago that have the police baffled."

Connor sighed and rubbed the side of his face, thinking. This was most troubling for him and he was afraid time was running short. Meanwhile, Colette ran through thought after thought in her head. What did Hickey do to Connor to start what looked to be a wild goose chase? Was there some kind of feud or fight between them?

"You gonna buy something or just stand there?" the peddler snapped, looking at Colette. She had pretended to be shopping while overhearing the conversation. Colette snapped out of her thoughts and snarled at the man.

"No," she said putting the apple back down and walking away. Surely that bit caught Connor's attention along with his accomplices. Colette didn't bother looking over her shoulder to find out and instead made her way to the small house that she and Javier were staying at.

"Connor?" Jacob asked, looking at his friend. "What is wrong?" Connor remembered that voice well and continued looking in the direction Colette walked off in. What was she doing here? He figured she would've gone back to her village, back to her people. But then he remembered… She had "business" to take care of.

"I will meet you and the others later," was all Connor said while he started following Colette, intent on finding out what she was doing here and what "business" she was dealing with. Jacob looked at Connor as though he had gone mad, but deciding to not think too much about it, left the market towards the tavern where he would meet Connor and the other recruits later.

"This veek has been very strange," Jacob mumbled as he scratched his chin and walked off.


End file.
